The Man Who Can't Be Moved
by Catopolis
Summary: Valerie liked to think she knew the man before she knew the legend, but truth was, she wasn't sure she ever knew either. She was punctual, ruthlessly work-orientated and consistent; and he was... something else entirely. All she was certain of, was that fate never wanted them apart for too long - no matter how hard they tried to change that. [Matt/OC] [Slow burn]
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** Couple of things to mention first!

 _Firstly_ , my O/C _Valerie_ isn't really physically described in this story - I leave that up to **you**. Her personality and some background information will be added throughout, but her **general appearance is completely up to you**. Ethnicity, height, weight, hair colour - even last name - **is all your choice**. I challenged myself with this, so I suppose if you squinted and tilted your head to the right you could self-insert. Up to you! Feel free to tell me how you imagined her.

 _Secondly_ , I've only watched the first season so far (starting on the second) and deduced from that my own vision of how Matt Murdock would respond to certain events. I've done some research on the internet, dug up some information from the comics, but other than that I'm fairly green.

 _Thirdly_ , I'm trying to stick to the canon storyline as much as I can. This story begins a little before the events of season 1.

Enjoy.

* * *

Nothing ever changed.

Her perfume, her hair colour, the scar on her right thigh from where she got too cocky in her first fight; her favourite food, how she had her coffee (white, two sugars – anything less made her heave) or her sense of style. These were all consistent, never-changing.

Her environment, less so - but there were a few things in it that always remained the same.

Valerie's sparring partner, Jackson, for instance. At the ripe age of seventy-two, his days as a champion mixed-martial artist had long since passed, but he always turned up every Monday, Friday and Sunday to help her train. Always on time, always with a hangover and always in a foul mood. She had long become accustomed to his whiskey breath and jabs that always felt a touch too aggressive to be called 'sparring', and she had learnt from his grunts just what she needed to change. A harsh grunt meant to keep her hands up, a low grunt meant her footwork was sloppy and a short bark meant she was either doing well or he needed to cut down on how many Marlboro Slims he was smoking – she was never certain.

Walking into Fogwell's gym at eight o'clock sharp – and by sharp, she meant she had perfectly synchronized the beeping of her watch so that the eighth beep sounded as soon as she shut the door – she was greeted with pleasant and familiar smells. Sweat predominantly, but also mildew, old brick and if testosterone had a scent – that too. It wasn't the fanciest gym in Hell's Kitchen, but she didn't have much choice when it came to where she trained.

The last beep of her watch sounded as soon as she shut the gym door, its high pitched sound being drowned out by the snap of frame.

Jackson would turn up in fifteen minutes time, which meant she had enough time to warm up before he arrived. Five minutes to stretch, eight minutes to skip, and the remaining two minutes left for any discrepancies. Striding over to the makeshift weights area, Valerie pulled her bag off of her shoulder.

"'sup Val." Eugene breathed with a short nod, before resuming counting his reps. Sweat glistened across his dark skin.

"Evening, Eugene. Arms again?" Valerie greeted as she threw her gym bag into a corner.

"You know it." He huffed.

Eugene was apparently also a creature of habit too, as she always found him every Monday sitting near the dumbbells, doing bicep curls (and only ever bicep curls) with weights too heavy for him to comfortably lift. Then every Friday listened to him complain about his pulled muscles, which thankfully he chose to do two minutes before Jackson turned up – so she always had the perfect excuse to stop the conversation.

What she didn't expect, or rather plan for, was Eugene to place the dumbbells back on the rack, stop the music on his dated iPod and strike up an unplanned conversation. It was a Monday. He never wanted to talk on a Monday.

"You hear about Hoston?"

Valerie remembered Hoston as the balding man who grunted too loudly when he boxed and always stopped sparring with his partner six minutes in - every time - with his 'wound from 'Nam', even though those who knew he was too young for him to have been around the time of the Vietnam war.

"No?" Valerie said, perturbed by the new choice of subject. "I imagine he'll tell everyone on Sunday though." Hoston gossiped like a bored housewife.

"Doubt it," Eugene said simply, crossing his huge arms. "Anderson said he's been caught by the NYPD for distribution."

That wasn't too far-fetched. She had overheard him many a time trying to sell steroids to other gym rats.

"Oh?" She wasn't sure whether to act happy or annoyed. Eugene didn't like Hoston – many of them didn't, but she knew Eugene hated the feds more. Valerie settled for an expression she hoped conveyed mild sympathy but pleasant surprise.

"Had it coming if you asked me." Eugene took a hefty swig of his water. "Apparently that masked dude swallowed him up and spat him out at the nearest precinct."

The Masked Man. Yeah, she had heard of him. Valerie had no formal opinion on vigilantes other than she thought they must have a lot of time on their hands. She had honed her body to function well on exactly six hours sleep and couldn't imagine spending that jumping off of rooftops and beating up criminals. Now that _would_ disturb her schedule.

"It's why Jim's been in such a bad mood lately." Eugene continued, not put off by Valerie turning her back and stretching. Jim was the owner of the gym, a name she still wasn't sure if it was real or some kind of running joke. "He said Hoston never tried to deal outside the gym, so he thinks one of ours ratted him out."

"I thought, ugh," Val felt the tug of her calf as she stretched it. "Jim didn't like Hoston?"

"He don't," He confirmed. "But he hates snitches more."

There was a note in Eugene's voice that Valerie picked up on immediately. Suspicion. Valerie stopped bending and turned to face the six-foot tower of bicep.

"You think I snitched on Hoston?" It wasn't entirely unfeasible, Valerie was always a fierce stickler for honesty and rules, but she would never go out of her way to see a man she rarely spoke to put behind bars.

"Not really, I know you, Val," Eugene shrugged. "But Jims keeping an eye on everyone. I'd keep out of his way if I were you. He's suspicious of you only because you're the only female this gym's seen in years. Plus," He smiled, a weird, crooked thing that was a tell-tale sign he was either going to tell a joke that was either offensive to her personally or just sexist in general. "We'd see it in that damn schedule of yours." He pitched his voice dramatically. " _6:15, arrange meeting with masked man-"_

"Understood," Valerie said shortly. She checked her watch. 8:13.

Great, she thought bitterly. Idle gossip has cost her time she could have spent warming up.

"I'll see you around anyway." Eugene drawled as he swung his towel over his shoulder. "Look after yourself, man, days are strange now – superheroes, vigilantes, aliens. Weird shit."

Eugene said his goodbyes and Val quickly wrapped tape around her knuckles. Jackson didn't believe in warm-ups, and soon as he stepped foot in the gym it was go time.

Apart from, this time, Jackson never showed up.

He had done so once before, turning up half an hour later blind drunk but still able to throw punches like the best of them. He didn't keep a phone on him either – believing some government conspiracy he heard on a radio show in his youth, so there was no way to find if he was just delayed or not coming at all.

So Valerie waited and spent every minute wishing she had never walked into the gym in the first place.

8:15 came and went, and Val found herself idly pushing a punching bag.

8:20 came and went, and Val did some pushups.

8:30 came and went, and Val tried to the splits. She pulled a muscle in her thigh.

8:45 came and went, and Val skipped.

9:00 came and went and Val watched as the last of the evening regulars trickled out the door, those who knew her mumbling their goodbyes, oddly looking in her direction.

Everyone knew Valerie was strict and punctual. She calorie counted, tracked her expenses religiously and would track how many breaths she took in a day if she could. Seeing her out of routine was just as unusual as a spacecraft nearly levelling a city. Thought impossible, but apparently not.

Valerie huffed as Cameron, who was always the last to leave, walked over to her.

"Jackson not show up?" He asked, concern in his voice. Cameron had known Jackson longer than she had and always knew the old drunk was nothing if not punctual.

Valerie held her arms up and looked around, an action a little too sarcastic for her usual character. Cameron gave her a pat on her shoulder.

"Old man's probably throwin' up in a gutter somewhere, you know him." Valerie huffed in reply. "I've gotta' head back to the kids, you okay here or are you calling it a night?"

"I might as well stay." Valerie chewed the inside of her cheek, a clear sign of her anxiety. "This is going to throw my _whole_ schedule off."

"Yeah, I've seen your ledger." Cameron chuckled and handed Val a set of keys. "Make sure you turn the electric breaker off before you go."

"Sure thing." Val put the keys on a nearby bench as she walked towards the bags.

Cameron got to the door before he stopped. "Oh, Val?"

"Hm?" Val readied her stance and raised her arms, keen to take out her frustration on the red bags of sand in front of her.

"I, uh, probably shouldn't be saying this – dude likes his privacy, but there's a man who usually comes round about nine-thirty. Likes it quiet."

"Oh?" Val delivered a few trying jabs as Cameron called to her.

"He don't always turn up, but, if he does I thought I'd give you a little warning."

"Uh-huh." Val barely registered what Cameron was saying as she huffed out air with every jab. "Thanks."

"And, uh, he's blind."

"Cool," Val replied, now entirely not paying attention to what he was saying as her tempo started to build.

"See you."

"Great."

Valerie's muscle memory kicked in as she zoned out all sounds around her. The smell of mould, the ticking of the broken clock, distant sounds of sirens – they all faded out as her mind began re-calibrating.

Leading such a busy life, she had become quite adept at multi-tasking and spent her time mentally rearranging her schedule. Her eight o'clock meeting would have to be moved to nine, so she would arrange that at seven to give ample warning. She'd have to have toast in the morning instead of her Greek yoghurt and oats – which took six minutes to prepare, so she could use those minutes to ring the office and-

Was someone talking to her?

Valerie zoned back in and next thing she knew she shouted and tripped over own damn feet. A man stood over her, his face etched in both surprise and concern as her heart refused to stop thumping.

"Are you alright?" The man asked, placing his stick to the side of her as he reached out his hand. She briefly wondered why he brought a stick to the gym before she accepted his hand. He pulled her up with a surprising amount of ease.

"Yes, yes." Valerie expelled a big puff of air to steady her breathing. "I… uh, wasn't paying attention."

She took a look at his face and frowned. Was he really wearing dark shades… indoors? At a gym? She took in his groomed hair and fit physique and her impression of him began to sour. She had met a few bro-types in her time.

"Evidently." He breathed with a quick upturn of his lips. "I didn't think there'd be anyone else here at this time."

"Neither did I, apparently," Valerie said slowly, trying not to stare so much before he commented on her wandering gaze. She hadn't seen him around before, not to her schedule anyway.

She checked her watch and barely stifled a gasp when she noticed how much time had passed. She'd struggle to get five hours and forty-five minutes worth of sleep if she didn't leave soon.

"I should really be going, nice to meet you…?" She hurriedly said, wanting to desperately leave before too much time got away but hearing her screechy grandmother's voice about etiquette squawk in the back of mind reminded her to be polite.

"Matthew, though Matt's just fine."

She extended her hand and replied with her own name.

Apart from he didn't take it. Hm?

"You just extended your hand, didn't you?" He said, with a small, knowing smile on his rugged face.

"Yes?" Valerie answered questioningly, wondering where the joke was and-

He was blind.

Cameron had said he was blind.

"I'm such an idiot," Valerie sighed, going to retract her hand and smack it to her forehead. Apart from he grasped it first, and gave a sharp shake.

"It's fine. You wouldn't be the first, you won't be the last." Matt laughed and after finally noticing the proverbial elephant in the room, she began to notice the smaller things. How his face didn't angle down towards her even though she stood a few inches shorter, a few small razor nicks across his neck where he had slipped and blotted the cut clumsily – and of course the big stick and glasses that _weren't_ because he was some ninety's wannabe.

"I, um, left the keys to the door on the bench," She jabbed her thumb behind her but quickly stopped herself. "…if you're okay with closing up on your own?" The smile on his face disappeared, and Valerie wanted to fully punch herself. He was blind, not a toddler. "I didn't mean… by that…"

"It's not the first time I've closed up," Matt said quietly. He stepped back and bent down to pick up his cane. Valerie suspected it was to avoid her sympathetic stare. His hand fumbled for a second before closing around it and standing.

"Okay, well, it was nice…" Val trailed off and sighed heavily. "Embarrassing myself in front of you." She could feel the heat rising in her cheeks. Something in his posture changed, subtly.

"It was nice to listen to it." He said, the small, quirky smile returning. "You train with Jackson, don't you?"

"Yes, usually. He didn't turn up today, though. You two know each other?"

"Yes, actually. He used to train with…" He stopped, and Valerie had the suspicion she was treading on sensitive ground. "Someone I knew. Awful drunk, constantly smells like whiskey and cigarettes?"

"That could be said for half of the city." Valerie laughed. He smiled in agreement. "But yeah, old vet who only talks in grunts?"

"That's the one. He didn't turn up? I heard he was quite the stickler for punctuality." There was something in the way he talked, Valerie noticed. Rehearsed almost, professional.

"Definitely. It's one of the few things we had in common. I'll make some calls tomorrow and see if anyone's seen him." Matt nodded and there was a lull in their conversation. "I'll… see you around?"

"Probably. Not sure if I can say the same."

Valerie's breath hitched in her throat until she spotted the small shadows of a smirk. "Oh, ha."

She quickly picked up her gym bag before she embarrassed herself further. She bid him one final goodbye before heading towards the door. Looking over her shoulder, she saw his head angle towards her direction. He wasn't moving, his hands still around his cane, evidently not keen on changing that until Valerie was clear out of sight. Or… hearing.

She figured he must have been insecure about his abilities or something. He couldn't exactly check his form in the mirror.

He looked almost… lonely in the dim light of the gym.

Valerie said nothing else and left, wondering how on earth a blind guy had gotten so… buff.

Was that bad to think?


	2. Chapter 2

To say she was inconvenienced would be an understatement.

Because of Eugene, Jackson and then Matt, she had only five hours and twenty minutes sleep; had to skip out breakfast altogether, move her nine o'clock meeting to the afternoon, and cancel her dental checkup which would then not be until Thursday. She was now sleep deprived, anxious about cavities, and a hundred calories behind her usual 1,500 calorie daily-goal.

After making a few calls at her office the next day, she found out that Jackson had fallen asleep at a seedy bar downtown. Normally she would be angry, but apparently, this was his process of mourning, as a former Marine comrade had passed away that day. She was assured that he would be there Friday.

Well, she thought so. She had asked him if he would be available Friday for definite and he grunted - and then proceeded to hang up.

Valerie wasn't just inconvenienced. She was practically… hindered.

To top it all off, she had nearly lost a client because she spent half an hour arguing that duck egg blue was nothing like sea foam green. It was in the title!

Valerie didn't drink, she had no tolerance for alcohol, but she was as close as she had ever been to tempted. Her pristine life felt like it was practically falling apart in her neatly manicured fingertips, so she did whatever she did when she was stressed.

One; pretended everything was fine.

Two; order way too much stationary off of the internet and three - take a drive to the gym.

After a late day of comparing wallpaper samples, Debrah cornering her at the water cooler with updates on her vapid children and a never-ending stream of none-moving traffic – her bad luck almost cost her that simple luxury as well. She made it there in the end, if not a little later than she wanted. That was fine, she guessed.

Val was trying to embrace the chaos and failing miserably.

Pulling up and switching off the engine, she was glad to see the lights still on.

"Thank God," Valerie hailed. "Something going right today."

And then her heart stopped.

What if the blind guy was back?

She had nothing against him or his… thing (Could she say disability? Did he see it as a disability?), but her day was going terribly enough and the last thing she needed was to offend someone by saying the wrong thing.

Valerie grasped the steering wheel tightly, briefly contemplating leaving, before she shook her head and got out of the car. Enough was enough. She would punch something and feel better, a vain attempt at seizing control.

She entered the building and walked through the long corridor to the entrance of the gym itself. Stopping at the door, with her hand on the handle, she heard the dull thumping of a punching bag being… well, punched. Quite heavily too. With one last breath of courage, she opened the door.

Matt stopped immediately. As soon as she opened the door, the noise ceased. She looked over at the bags and saw his back tense, his shoulders tight and rigid. For a moment, Val felt as if she had interrupted something personal, trod on sacred ground, so to speak. She had to take a second to remind herself that this was a communal boxing gym and not something secret.

"Please," She began, thumbing the strap of her gym bag. "Don't stop on my account."

Upon the sound of her voice, his shoulders immediately relaxed and his stance became less… aggressive.

"Valerie, was it?" He asked over his shoulder. For a man who was punching a sandbag like his life depended on it, he sounded surprisingly collected. Not winded or breathy whatsoever.

"Yes," She breathed, standing near the entrance of the gym awkwardly. "I don't usually come this late but it's been… one hell of a day."

Matt turned slightly then. There was a long pause before he spoke.

"You and me both." He said lowly. Turning back to the bag and raising his fists, Valerie took that as a subtle sign of… acceptance. He certainly didn't seem open to conversation, but that's wasn't why she was there either.

Walking over to the corner she usually deposited her bag; she threw it down and began to stretch.

Something felt oddly intimate about the space. Even though he had resumed his barrage of punches (noticeably softer now), she felt this was a side of the secretive man not many had gotten to see. She supposed it had something to do with him being blind. Perhaps this was the rare time he could feel like a man and not a disability. She quitted her mental rambling and turned to another bag and took her stance.

Once she began her routine, the outside world began to fade again, and for a moment in time, it was just her, her fists and the bag.

No annoying clients questioning her artistic integrity, no drunken old timers messing up her schedule, and no strong blind men for her to accidentally insult. Speaking of-

Sometime later, whilst taking a breather, she stopped her assault and noticed the gym was silent. The background thumping had stopped.

Looking past her bag, she presumed Matt must have left some time ago. Desperately trying to calm her ragged breathing, she blotted her sweaty face with her arm and made her way to her bag to retrieve her water bottle.

"Did you find out what happened to Jackson?"

Valerie choked on her water.

She saw him sitting on a bench not far from her, half concealed by shadows, his elbows on his knees and his own water bottle in hand.

"Has anyone…" She sputtered. "…ever told you how silent you are? I couldn't… even hear your breathing." Valerie gasped, wiping the spilt water from her chin.

He chuckled. "Once or twice."

Valerie took a moment to calm her breathing.

"And yes, to answer your question," She answered after a minute of rasping coughs. "Jackson had passed out at a bar not far from here."

"That doesn't sound like him." He said, his brows knitting together as he stared at the floor in front of him.

"He was mourning an old friend. Drank himself into a stupor and had to be dragged back to his apartment by the owner of the bar." Valerie explained, tucking her bottle back into her bag.

"Oh," He breathed simply. A silence passed between them as Val shook out her tired fists. "Jackson the one who taught you?" He gestured in the vague direction of the bags.

"My grandfather originally, but after he passed Jackson took over for him. My grandfather was adamant I knew how to fight, much to my grandmother's distaste. I can't say it hasn't proved useful." A few muggers had been unpleasantly surprised, that was for sure.

"Sounded like a smart man," Matt commented as he stood.

"Did… Jackson teach you as well?" Valerie hesitated after asking, thinking perhaps she had crossed some sort of line. Matt had this air of mystery about him. A 'don't ask' kind of vibe. She felt like upon being there, that some sort of secret understanding was made. A sort of 'don't question, and we'll be alright' kind of thing.

"No," Matt said after a moment, smiling to himself and Val thought there was a very funny story she was missing somewhere. He walked carefully to the bag he was at previously, feeling along the wall as he did so. "A much different, sterner old man taught me."

Valerie nodded before quickly realizing that it was a stupid move and hummed in understanding instead.

"You nodded first, didn't you?" His voice called from behind the bag.

"Christ," Val sighed. "I thought I got away with it."

She heard his laughter, deep and rumbling before the punching resumed once again – a little more confident this time. Val felt a little easier when she returned to the bag too.

A little tension between them had dissipated. She had no trouble finding her second-wind this time.

* * *

Valerie's week soon returned to normality. Wednesday went to plan; she had her six hours sleep, her Greek Yoghurt and oats, her meetings went as she rehearsed and she had managed to avoid Debrah at the water cooler. Traffic was clear and she made it to her apartment that night on schedule. Things were back to normal.

As for Mystery Matt, as she had begun to call him (never to his face of course), she didn't see for the better part of two weeks. Jackson arrived at the gym on time from then on, his eyes a little more sunken than usual but his fists as sharp as always, so she had no reason to stay later than necessary. She did keep an eye out for him each time though, but it seemed Cameron was right in that he appreciated his privacy. He never turned up when others were there.

It wasn't until the following Friday, after her session had finished, that her curiosity caught up with her and she found herself stopping Jackson as he went to leave.

"Do you know a Matt?"

Jackson stopped, his usual drunken gait grinding to a halt as he held onto the doorframe.

"'Aye, Murdock?" He asked, or more so grumbled. Jackson never spoke clearly.

"I'm… not sure." He had never given his last name and Valerie never thought to ask.

"Jack's boy?"

She saw the old posters for 'Battlin' Jack Murdock' and had heard some of the old-timers talk about him. She never knew he might have been his son. "I… guess?"

"Jesus," Jackson huffed as he turned around. "Blind?"

"Um, yes." Valerie nodded as Jackson's bloodshot eyes landed on her.

"Yeah, I know 'im - used to brawl with his dad back in the day." Jackson gave one of his rasping coughs. "No-one used to fight like old Battlin' Jack. Shame what happened."

Uh-oh.

Valerie felt that deep-rooted feeling in her gut. The one she got when she felt like she had unintentionally crossed a line. Sacred ground again. The sweat on her back felt heavy and cold.

"Oh," Val hummed dumbly. She let it hang for a moment, unsure whether to push for details.

Jackson may have been a drunk, smoked too much and was partially blind in one eye - but he could be awfully observant. He could spot the question lingering on Val's lips from a mile away.

"Jack didn't throw a fixed fight and got killed. Orphaned the kid but left him the winnings." Jackson fiddled around in his sweatpants for his cigarettes.

Her mouth hung open slightly. "…straight to the point as always, Jackson," Valerie mumbled.

Her curiosity was sated but now… she felt burdened. She probably wasn't meant to know that.

"Gotta' question? Goddamn, ask it next time."

With his parting words of wisdom, Jackson turned back around, already lighting his cigarette before he had actually left the building.

Valerie heard his barking coughs all the way down the hallway. She felt like she needed a cigarette too.

* * *

Everything continued smoothly for the next couple of days after that. With her immaculate schedule and busy life, Valerie's mind was too preoccupied to be thinking of mysterious blind men with tragic pasts, and she quickly forgot about Matt Murdock and his father.

She had a ten o'clock meeting with a client one Thursday, and the building, a large set of offices not far from her own, was only a short walk away. Waiting in her office until Debrah was had returned to her own, Valerie quickly picked up her briefcase containing carpet samples and mood boards and set on her way. Talking to her nutritionist on her phone (it was the same thing as always, stop skipping breakfast and add more fibre); she entered a nearby coffee shop. They always misspelt her name (who spells it Valary?) and the coffee was always a touch too sweet, but it was convenient and that was exactly what her life desired.

Her nutritionist must have overheard this and was now breaking into a lecture about caffeine and the effects on the body. Waiting in line, Valerie hummed her way through a telling-off until it was polite enough to end the conversation. Tucking her phone into the pocket of her coat, she sighed with relief.

"I'm beginning to recognize that sigh anywhere." A voice in her ear spoke.

She started again with a gasp.

What was it with Matt Murdock and making her jump?

Valerie turned around and saw a smiling Matt looking just passed her shoulder. She was waiting for him to focus his gaze before she realized once again. Blind. Wow, Valerie, what's wrong with you?

"Jesus, you're lucky I don't throw punches when I'm scared." Valerie breathed. He chuckled again.

"I think I'd have two black eyes and a broken nose by now." He spoke.

It was odd seeing him dressed so… dapper. Was that the word? His suit looked expensive, tailored even. She hadn't given it much thought the two times she saw him, what he might wear outside of the gym, but he looked… good.

She saw the corner of his mouth twitch and wondered if she imagined it.

Valerie opened her mouth to say something, but the barista called for the next customer so she gave her order and waited. She hadn't planned for this. Of course, she wasn't a savage; she allowed sometime between each of her activities so if something unexpected occurred she could deal with it and not interrupt her day. She collected her coffee as Matt did his (black, no sugar she noted), and found herself leaving the shop by his side.

"Where are you heading?" He asked, his tone lighter and friendlier than in it was in the gym.

"Tempest Technologies. They've bought a new branch of offices in the area." Valerie said as they paused in the street.

"Ah, I know where. Want me to walk you?" His voice was so... confident and assured.

This was definitely a stride different from the Mystery Matt she knew at the gym. The one she had met before was quiet and sullen -like the whole world rested on his shoulders. This one seemed brazen and almost… cocky. Charismatic. She found herself saying yes.

"And by walk you, I may have meant the other way around." He said, holding up his hand.

"Oh! Of course," She offered her arm and he grasped it lightly.

They set an easy stride, nothing too quick but nothing too slow either. She didn't want to offend him by leading him like an elderly man, yet didn't want to whisk him along like he was a track runner. He seemed content enough to be guided, stick tucked under his arm as he sipped his coffee with his free hand.

"So, you're a techie?" He asked as they walked down the street.

"No, no." Valerie laughed. She had called I.T at her office the other day because her desktop didn't come on only to find out the cleaners had accidentally unplugged it overnight. That was… somewhat embarrassing. "I'm an interior designer."

"Oh?" He said, slightly surprised. "I'm afraid I know absolutely nothing about that."

"Not many do-" Blind joke. He was making a blind joke. Matt seemed quite comfortable with making them, it seemed. Valerie bit her lip before deciding to bite. "Is that from being a man or being blind?"

His smile widened when she played along. "A little bit of both, I think."

"And you?" Valerie asked, curious by his well-groomed posterior. "What do you do?"

"A defense attorney." He said plainly. "Or, soon to be."

"Soon to be?" Valerie echoed.

"Me and my partner are looking into buying our own firm."

"Oh?" It was her own turn to be surprised. That sounded like a… awfully brave move. She presumed it hadn't been that long since he had been interning. Starting his own business instead of joining an already successful company seemed quite risky. "Colour me impressed."

They turned a corner. "I mean no offence when I ask this, but what's a successful interior designer doing at such an old gym?" Matt asked. Valerie had wondered if he would talk about that. She didn't know if it was some sort of… secret. It certainly felt like it. "I hear they opened a new one not far from here. State of the art training equipment."

"I could ask a defense attorney the same thing." Valerie retorted. "But Jacksons trained me for eight years now, and refuses to spar with me anywhere but that gym."

"So, not by choice then?" He had the lawyer was of asking things, she found. Prying, without being rude.

"I guess not. I know all the people there though. I don't think I could trade the family atmosphere for 'state of the art equipment'."

He hummed thoughtfully.

"How about you?" Valerie asked between sips of coffee. "Fancy job, not so fancy gym."

There was a long pause. She had a feeling he was choosing his words carefully. "Same reasons as you, I suppose. Feels… homely."

Was that a lie? Valerie felt like that was a lie. If what Jackson said was true, then she felt like the reason was a little more personal than what he gave. She didn't pry, though when she glanced in his direction, she noticed his brows twitch – the ghost of a small frown.

"Speaking of, I haven't heard you there lately. Things going well?" There it was again, the lawyer way of getting answers.

"Well enough," Valerie said truthfully. "I didn't realize I was missed."

Did I just flirt? Valerie thought, panicking. She didn't even think twice about saying it.

She felt his deep vibrations of his chuckle through his hands. "It was nice to have company."

"Then why don't you go in the day?"

"I prefer it a little quieter."

She needn't really ask why, though she still reckoned she wasn't getting the whole story.

"Well, I'll have to see what I can do." By that, she meant her schedule was crammed enough as it was without the extra pressure but she felt… interested. Not romantically or sexually, just curious. "But perhaps, a little warning if we do meet again."

He smiled, white teeth on show. That was the first time she saw him smile like that.

"I'll look forward to scaring you again, Valerie."

Her client's building was in view and she could see the project manager and the client in question standing in front of it.

"Thank you for the company, Mr Murdock. I can see my client just in view."

The fingers around her arm twitched when she said his last name. Glancing at him she saw him frown – fully this time.

"You know my full name?" He asked lowly, turning to her but looking at the side of her head instead of her face.

Oh, shit. Valerie's heart sunk. He had never told her. She had found out through Jackson. This would give away the fact she had asked about him.

Should she tell him? That she invaded his privacy? That she was far too nosy for her own good?

Val thanked her lucky stars that he couldn't see the surprise on her face.

"I heard the barista call it, earlier." She said, her voice sounding impressively level despite her fear. Something on his face told her he didn't quite believe that. "Am… I, uh, not meant to?"

His face retained the frown for a moment before it began to soften again.

"No, no. I mean, of course. Just… caught me-" He clamped his mouth shut. It was strange to see him stumble on his words. He always sounded so… sure.

"Would you rather I call you Matt?" Valerie asked, a little unsure. What was so bad about knowing his name? Was it related to his father? Did he not like people knowing that?

"No, it's… fine. I should really be going." He said a little too hurriedly to be convincing. "It was nice catching up with you."

He removed his cane from under his arm and quickly left in the direction they just came from.

Valerie stared after him confused.

He didn't have some secret horrible past she wasn't aware of, did he?


	3. Chapter 3

Shaken slightly, but no worse for wear, Valerie focused herself and her meeting with her client went as she had meticulously rehearsed. The project manager was pleased with both her vision and how it would be executed, and everything began to slide back on track.

Though that wasn't to say her mind didn't wander throughout the rest of the day.

She had met mysterious types before. It was Hell's Kitchen, for god's sake, everyone had a secret. If someone said they didn't, well, then that was the biggest alarm bell of them all.

Valerie had dated ex-cons, never knowingly, felons and even a corrupt politician once. Matt didn't seem like any of these though, and Valerie spent the remainder of her work hours thinking about something other than work for a change.

The safety-conscious part of her mind told her to steer clear, people with dark pasts were trouble – and trouble was time. Time she couldn't afford. She lead an impossibly busy schedule, was meticulously punctual and career-driven in a way that if she was a little more ruthless and a better liar she would have made a fantastic politician.

Val didn't need trouble; in any way, shape or form.

And yet there she was; gym bag in her lap at 9:46, on a Tuesday no less – staring at the dim lights of the gym from the cooling warmth of her car. The engine thrummed underneath her until she switched it off with a turn of a key.

"Valerie, you are one _stupid_ woman," Val mumbled as she pocketed her keys.

Groaning slightly as she exited her car, the muscles in her legs and arms begging her for rest, she walked over to the building and entered.

Curiosity would certainly kill the cat, she thought bitterly as the sound of recognizable thumping greeted her ears.

Valerie walked into the gym a little more confident this time. She had taken his words as a positive response to her presence, and she no longer felt as if she was interrupting something.

The punching did stop as the door opened, but Matt's shoulders did not tense or freeze upon hearing it. He turned his head towards her, never at her, as she walked towards her usual corner.

It seemed nothing needed to be said between them, as Valerie stretched her arms and he resumed his own workout.

Val was in the middle of stretching her legs, bent forward with her head almost against her knees when she heard a groan. She froze and felt heat rise in her cheeks. Was he-?

 _He was goddamn blind, Valerie._

Looking up, she saw him grasping his side as he fell to one knee.

"Oh- are you okay?!" She was pacing towards him (though she didn't remember giving her legs permission to do so) before she could stop herself – and was an arms breadth away before he held out his hand up to halt her.

"I'm fine," Matt seethed between clenched teeth, a little too sharp to be anything other than worrying.

"You really don't look like it," Valerie returned, a little harsher than she intended. His certainly face looked paler than before and she wasn't going to put up with that macho-man ''tis-but-a-flesh-wound' crap if he was seriously hurt. "Are you-"

He was bleeding. Though his top was black, she could see the darkened patch under the side he was clutching, and the small collection of blood seeping onto his fingertips.

"You're bleeding?!" She swatted his outstretched hand away, and then went to peel off his other hand that was grasping his side like it was the only thing holding his organs still in place – and for everything she knew about anatomy - it probably was.

"It's nothing!" He barked as he stood abruptly, giving her a harsh push away. Harsher than he apparently intended, as his face grimaced as she stumbled backwards a step. Or it could have been the pain, because as soon as he stood, he fell back to his knees with his teeth bared and panting. "Ah,"

"Evidently _not_ ," Valerie had met types like that before, especially at the gym. Pulling muscles and ripping tendons, but not wanting to seem weak in front of others and batting it off as they limped away to the locker room. "Here, I'm not a nurse or anything but I like to think I know a thing or two about stitches." She approached him again and knelt next to him, and when she went to move the hand covering the torn stitches, he let her – pain winning over his pride.

"Oh," Val breathed as she pulled his t-shirt up, and it confirmed her suspicions. Matt had evidently pulled some stitches on his side as he was throwing kicks. They were sloppily done stitches at best, definitely not the work of a professional doctor – or someone who _wasn't_ the injured party. Val took a closer look and frowned. "Were you… were you stabbed?"

"It doesn't matter," he panted, blood starting to trickle down his side as the dam of his hand was removed.

She rolled her eyes and felt bitter he couldn't see her do so. "Come, let's sit you down. There's a first aid kit in the back," Tucking her arm under his own, he let her help pull him up and guide him to a nearby weights bench.

As soon as Matt was seated, she left for the locker room and quickly raided the box for the things she needed. Most of the stuff was dubious; old disinfectant bottles, older bandages and painkillers which names were misspelt on the front. Luckily, though, there were some clean bandages that looked recently bought, thread and an actual medical sowing needle still safe in its protective seal. It would certainly do for now.

Getting what she needed, she returned to the main area and knelt down in front of him. She placed the medical equipment by his side and went to pull his shirt up again but his hand stopped her.

"I can do it," Matt said pointedly.

"Really? Because these stitches look like they were done by a- a…." Valerie trailed off, though in her panic induced frustration she felt like finishing the sentence. He spoke before she made her mind.

"Yeah," He simply breathed.

"I'm not a nurse, but I think I can do a better job than this."

"Think?" Matt repeated.

"You don't have much of a choice, really." She said as she used a disinfectant wipe to clean the area. He hissed. "I take it there's a reason that you didn't decide to go to a hospital with this?"

"Couldn't afford the bills," He laughed, though there was little humour in his voice. Matt reclined slightly to give her better access to his wound, wincing as he did.

"Right," Valerie drawled, not bothering to hide the disbelief in her voice. A poor excuse from a defense attorney. Ironic, really. "I'm going to have to remove these old stitches first. It'll hurt."

Val began the painstaking process of pulling the old stitches, and due to the funny angle they were threaded – it wasn't an easy job. To his credit, he groaned little, though she could feel his stomach tense tightly with each tug.

The wound began to weep heavily now, not appreciating being disturbed and Valerie used some gauze to try and stop the flow.

"It doesn't look that deep, luckily, though if it was you'd have lost a kidney," Val reviewed as she held the bandage to his side for a moment, peering under it every now and again.

"You have much experience with these types of wounds?" He asked, seemingly curious. She glanced at his face.

'These types of wounds' were a clever way of avoiding telling her what it really was. Val wasn't an idiot, she could tell by its size and width that it was evidently some type of blade - she didn't need any medical experience to work that out.

"'Took a first aid seminar a while back," She explained. "Thought it would come in handy in Hell's Kitchen and... it _certainly_ has." Peeling off the gauze, she cleaned the wound properly this time and threaded her needle.

"That it has," Matt agreed as she cut the appropriate amount of thread she needed.

She lifted his shirt a little higher, going to tuck it under slightly so it didn't slide back down if he flinched from the puncture of the needle. She paused.

The stab wound wasn't the only mark he possessed. Val didn't hide her gasp.

"Oh my god," She hissed in second-hand pain as she saw the dark blue bruised across his toned side and abs. Various other smaller cuts and scars spanned across his entire torso, and she noticed older scars and faded marks. Some of them made the one she was dressing look like a paper cut. "Did you lose a fight with a truck?"

He wheezed a laugh. "Something like that,"

"Fine, Mr Mystery." Valerie gave up trying to win the truth out of him, though she did have a few speculations.

Her main theory was that he must have been involved in a bad mugging and didn't want to admit being in a position of weakness. It would make sense; his being blind would make him an easy target.

"I'm going to start the new stitches. The areas inflamed from me messing with it, so this is going to _really_ hurt."

This wasn't exactly how she planned her evening to go.

Piercing the hot skin for the first time rewarded her with a sharp intake of breath from her patient, and the second got her a badly concealed curse.

"Shit," Matt gasped, as Valerie pulled the thread through the skin.

"I get it if you don't want to tell me how you got this," Valerie began, hoping to distract him from the pain with her words. "But is there a particular reason you decided working out would be a good idea with these wounds?"

"Thought you might turn up tonight," He said without missing a beat.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Oh? I like it when you avoid the truth with flattery."

"Did it work?" He quipped through clenched teeth, his hand in a white-knuckle grip around his knee.

"Evidently not," Val mumbled as she threaded another stitch. "You can keep trying though."

"I'll try and remember that."

She soon finished and made a small knot out of the excess thread. "Just got to bandage you up and I'm done."

Matt hummed in understanding as she grabbed the bandage.

Unraveling it, she lifted up the other side of his shirt and tapped under his arms for him to raise them. After he did, she began to wind it around his side. It was an awkward reach, as she wound it around his back, both of her hands around his middle to pass the bandage - giving an almost weird hug. This close, she could smell his faded cologne and aftershave. It was… pleasant.

She felt his entire body tense each time she came close.

"You smoke?" Matt asked suddenly, as she wrapped the bandage around him again, his voice low in her ear and breath warm against her cheek.

"No?" Val flinched away a little. _What kind of question was that?_ "I used to, during my somewhat," She huffed as she leaned forward again, giving him an awkward medical-hug. " _Rebellious_ phase. Why?"

"I can, uh, smell it on you."

"Really?" She tucked the bandage into the wrap when she was done. Self-conscious, Val smelled her work out tank. It smelled fresh. Where was the smoke?

"It's faint," Matt explained. "Did you train with Jackson today?"

"No," Val answered, feeling a tad uncomfortable. Did she smell that bad? "Though… I did have a meeting with the company's manager today – he's rarely seen without a cigarette in his mouth."

"Camels?" He asked, his eyebrow quirking up.

"…yes, actually. You can… smell that on me?" What kind of sensitive nose picked up on the smell of smoke from several hours ago?

"Faintly. I have," He hesitated for a second as he ran his fingers over his bandage. "A pretty good sense of smell."

"Apparently," She wasn't sure if that was weird or impressive. "Quite the party trick," Valerie commented as she cleaned up the empty packages and used wipes. Putting the extra thread and bandages back in the kit, she called back to him. "I'm not exactly a doctor or nurse – and I'm _definitely_ not your mother - so I doubt you're going to take my advice, but I'll give it anyway," She walked back into the training area and saw him pull his shirt back over his front gingerly.

"Refrain from exercise?"

"Refrain from being stabbed, preferably." She retorted, crossing her arms.

Matt laughed as he slowly stood. "Good advice,"

Val watched him as he collected his stick, glasses and coat. She was glad to see he wasn't going to try exercising again - so he wasn't _completely_ reckless.

He winced as he put on his coat.

She wasn't going to stick around either, her muscles thanking the heavens for the mystery man and his mystery wound so she hadn't worked out. Collecting her things, she followed Matt out of the room, turning the lights off on her way as he locked the door.

"You need any help there?" She watched as he walked much slower than usual, his side probably pinching with every step he took.

"I'm fine," He gave a weak smile as she walked by his side down the long corridor. "A little direction wouldn't hurt though."

He held out his hand again, a coy smile on his lips. She placed her upper arm in his grasp again and walked slowly with him.

"You live far from here?" He asked.

"A little further than I'd like," Val replied as she held a door open for him. "How about you? You taking a cab?"

"No, I like the walk. It's not too far."

Val hummed. "I'll drive you. You're not exactly in a position to be walking anywhere."

"That's not necessary, I-"

"Wasn't asking." She led him to where she parked, a little ways down the street. Her authoritative attitude apparently caught him off guard.

"O…kay then," Opening the passenger side for him, Matt got in the car with no further argument.

 _What are you doing?_ A voice called in the back of her mind.

 _Helping a hurt man,_ another voice responded defensively.

 _A hurt man with stab wounds and a reason he won't give you!_

Val shook her head as she got in the driver's seat, both figuratively and literally, and put the key in the ignition.

"You make a habit of driving strangers home?" He asked suddenly.

For a hot minute, Val had almost forgotten he was there. He was so quiet.

"Just the injured ones," She replied. She asked for his address and he gave it. Not the nicest area if she recalled - maybe her mugging theory was right.

After a few minutes of quiet driving, she pulled up to a red light and spoke again. "I'd hardly call you a stranger, anyway."

"Acquaintance then," Matt corrected.

She felt a little hurt at that and she couldn't be sure why. Surely they were a little more than that? Valerie wouldn't exactly say… _friends_ , but-

Well, that _would_ make them acquaintances then.

The light turned green and she drove away, following some of the directions he gave. It was surprising the amount he knew about the area for someone for someone who couldn't see.

"I'm surprised you haven't asked," He said, adjusting the cane in his fingertips.

"What now?"

"Whether I've been blind all my life. It's the question most people ask first."

Val chuckled in understanding. "Yeah, I get that. But I've met blind people before," She explained, turning a corner. "I've never met a blind person at the gym with more scars on his torso than a butcher's ham."

Matt laughed. "Good point."

Jeez, he was impossible. Why was he so secretive?

She pulled up to the entrance of his apartment complex. It was an old rundown building, more graffiti than chipped wall bricks.

"Would it seem rude if I asked what's a man like you doing in a place like this?" Valerie asked as she stopped the car, watching a few shady types further down the street and her brows furrowing in concern.

"'Man like me'?" He echoed, the hand on the door handle pausing for a second.

If he wanted to avoid questions, then so could she. "Are you going to be alright getting up those stairs?"

She saw the small twitch at the corner of his mouth. "I'll be just fine. And, um," He hesitated for a second as he opened the door. "Thank you, Valerie. For everything."

"No problem, mystery man. Get some rest."

Matt gave a nod before he left, shutting the door quietly before walking slowly towards the entrance to the complex. She watched him until he disappeared behind the door.

Val let out a breath and shook her head. "What a man."


	4. Chapter 4

"Uh-oh, someone has a case of the messy-schedule-blues," Angie commented as Valerie walked into her office, ignoring her friend's over-bearing perkiness.

She was like a shark - could smell weakness from across the complex.

"Does it really show?" Valerie sighed.

"Not really." She leant against the doorframe, tapping the sharp points of her acrylic nails against the wood. "You always look… prepared. _But_ \- you don't have your usual coffee, so I gathered Jesus must have returned and sunk another part of New York."

Valeria laughed sarcastically as she placed her briefcase on her desk.

"Plus you pens not in its holder so I just naturally presumed your life is in turmoil."

"Very observant. I get the point, I'm meticulous." Valerie huffed. When Angie walked past her to stare out of the large windows, she seized the opportunity to return her pen to its rightful place. She didn't want the office to know she had let herself go like that.

"Not the word I'd use, but sure."

Angie rarely showed up to Valerie's office without meaning. Recently made her superior, Valerie couldn't shoo her away like she'd very much like to, so Val occupied herself by arranging some files while Angie finished basking in her new-found power.

"Boy trouble?" Her blonde co-worker said quickly. Val couldn't hide the rise and tense of her shoulder before Angie spotted it. "Knew it! Nothing rattles you more than men."

"Sure… My only weakness." Val huffed under her breath.

"Well, brace yourself then, kitten." Val _detested_ that name. "You've got a new nine o'clock. You're previous clients been dropped."

"What?!" Val barked. "But Tempest-"

"-doesn't matter. A suave looking man from Union Allied approached us. Apparently, his employer wants an apartment flipped and asked for our complete discretion." Angie placed some serious looking files in front of Val.

 _Discretion?_

"Is it some kind of celebrity?" Valerie asked as she sank into the plush leather of her chair. She began to thumb through the files, noting how it looked as if the client already knew what he wanted. A lot of… white.

Valerie prayed it was some coked-up, flamed-out rock star that was clinging to their fifteen minutes. If it wasn't, then chances were it was a criminal kingpin. No-one else wanted this level of privacy.

"Don't know, didn't ask. Neither should you." Angie tapped pointedly on the big red 'CLASSIFIED' stamp at the top. "You were recommended by Mr Howard, so don't disappoint."

Valerie had been recommended by him before, sure. Though only in the business for a few years, she was ruthlessly efficient, and though mocked by her colleagues for her 'no-fun' schedule – it had won Val three promotions, more than her share of high-profile clients and her own office overlooking the recently re-built sections of Hell's Kitchen. She was proud, to say the least.

But the files in front of her didn't feel right. She had decorated a Senate's boudoir at his discretion – though it was something a little more akin to a sex-dungeon, and while that was a little _dubious_ , even that didn't have 'CLASSIFIED' stamped to the top of every related file.

The files contained a layout of the apartment – though if it could be called that. It was a grand space – two floors at the top of what she presumed was a high-rise. Windows everywhere.

There wasn't even an address written down. No formal names. Just names of expensive furniture designers from all around the globe. Valerie wasn't exactly well-travelled, her schedule didn't allow it, but some of the countries didn't even sound real. Was this person royalty? It certainly felt like it.

She had a six-month timescale – taking her to Christmas.

Valerie removed her planner from her bag.

She was going to have to rearrange the rest of the year for this.

* * *

It had been a few weeks since she had last seen him.

From the busyness of her new client, she even had to rearrange her training sessions with Jackson – now in the morning instead of the evening. There were a lot of late nights, waiting for some marble carver in Indonesia to wake up for her to contact him about a goddamn _end_ _table_ , and this left her too exhausted to hit the gym even late at night anymore.

But there he was, standing a few people in front of her in the queue, his fingers tapping idly against his cane. The same coffee shop as before.

She briefly pondered approaching him, to see how he was doing. His side should have healed up by now – and judging by his very standing there, she gathered it didn't get septicemia from the thread and bandages. He had evidently taken good care of himself.

The same, however, couldn't be said for Valerie. Not quite stab-worthy, but by her long hours, skipped meals and taste for chiffon, autumn had soon slapped her with a chill and starting of a cold. She coughed into her fist as the line began to dwindle.

Then she saw it, his head tilt to the side, his ear almost pointed in her direction.

Did he… recognize her cough?

Val had heard the whole speculation of blind people having other heightened senses – their bodies compensating for what they lost. But this was a busy café, in a busy Hell's Kitchen. There was no way he heard her over this bustle.

His name was called next, and she zoned out for a second as she checked an email on her phone. A reply from a tanner in France, who had taken a very ignorant four days to decide she was worth a reply. She archived the email and was pocketing her phone when she looked up and saw the very Matt she was thinking about standing in front of her, two coffees in hand.

"Creamer, two spoonfuls of sugar?" He confirmed as Val stood gaping at him for a second.

"Uh, yes?" He handed the cup to her and she took it, quickly stepping out of the queue to allow others by. "Thank you, I'm… surprised you remember."

"Of course I would. You're one of two people I know who take their coffee that way." He walked out of the shop and she followed. It was the first time she noticed how well he navigated a crowd for someone who could only rely on their hearing.

"Here, let me give you-" Val reached for her purse but was halted by his raised hand.

"Consider it a 'thank you', for the other night," Matt explained.

Valerie never felt too comfortable with charity, but then again, he didn't seem too keen on her helping him that night either. An eye for an eye, she gathered. Matt gestured towards a nearby bench with a raised eyebrow, and she muttered a 'sure' as they took a seat.

"I didn't need anything in return for that, by the way, other than perhaps stronger washing detergent. Your blood was quite difficult to get out of my cotton shirt." Valerie felt like some kind of criminal that night, in her apartment's utility closet, desperately trying to scrub her white shirt with cornstarch. It just turned up a sickly pink and she ended up throwing it out altogether.

He breathed a laugh into his coffee cup. "My apologies."

"Did it heal well?" Val went to gesture to his side but quickly retrieved her hand. It seemed not even stitching his wounds could remove the awkwardness she felt when talking to him.

"Yes, actually. I did something different this time," He said, rather ominously.

Valerie wanted to question the 'this time' but thought better. "What was that?"

"I actually let it heal."

"Oh," Valerie laughed. "I hear that helps."

She watched a family walk past, mother and father with the child in-between them. All of them holding hands, discussing Christmas with excited chatter. Val thought about her own family position for a second before her _acquaintance_ spoke again.

"I hear you're missed at the club," Matt said, after a few moments of quiet.

"Oh? By Jackson, or by you?" Valerie quipped.

"Both." Val hid her smile behind her coffee. She didn't have to, but she did anyway. "Jacksons apparently took to sparring with some young kid fresh out of high school looking to enlist next year."

Valerie gave a hiss of sympathy. "Poor kid."

Jackson always went a little harder on those who he found out wanted to join the military.

"I have a new client. Very serious, or so I'm told." Val explained briefly, not sure just how much she wanted to divulge. He looked a little more interested at this, for someone who didn't have much taste, or really any _ability_ , for interior design. She wanted to change the conversation as quickly as possible. "Why do I get the feeling that I'm only missed for my medical abilities?" Valerie taunted. "I hear Jackson's hands shake too much to thread a needle properly."

Matt laughed in return. "And his hands just aren't as soft."

Val felt her heart skip like a little school girl again. Just two weeks away from Jacksons grunting, berating and whiskey breath and she was already acting soft. _As soft as her hands, apparently_. Her heart skipped again.

She was going to have to arrange a session with Jackson as soon as possible.

Casting a glance his way, she saw him smile to himself and wondered just what he was smiling about.

"What've you been up to, then?" Valerie asked, a perfect normally question – or so she thought. She didn't miss the tightening of his hands around his cane.

"What do you mean?" Matt asked, his head tilting in her direction. If he wasn't a blind man, Val would have suspected he was concentrating on something. Her answer maybe? What was wrong with the question?

"Well," Val began, deciding to pick her words a little more carefully this time. "You said before you and your partner were looking into buying your own firm. Anything come of that?"

"Oh," He breathed, and it was a touch too relieved for Val not to be suspicious. "Yes, actually. Foggy's showing me a potential office space today."

"Hm? Did I hear that right?"

"The office space or the name?" Matt asked, but she suspected he already knew the answer. "Franklin Nelson is his name, but most just call him Foggy."

"Oh. Feels like there's a story there somewhere." Valerie pulled the sleeve of her coat up to check her watch. She really had to get back, but it was nice to talk about something other than different grains of textured wood. Val decided she could stay another minute or so.

A few pleasant moments passed. Not complete silence, of course, it was Hell's Kitchen – there was always noise, but between them, an easy quiet fell as they finished their coffee.

"You said you have a new client?" Matt spoke after a minute or so. "That's what been keeping you from training?"

"Yes," Val said slowly. Not saying anything would be even more suspicious, right? She wasn't even sure she could even say _that_ , let alone anything else. "A lot of long nights ringing across the globe chasing after some… antique lampshades." That was vague enough, she thought.

"Sounds important. Some celebrity, I guess?"

Was he… pushing for more information? Or making pleasant conversation? She felt herself grow nervous.

"I suppose… it's all a little," Valerie bit the inside of her cheek as if that would help stop the flow of words. "Hush-hush."

She glanced at him; saw his eyes behind the glasses as he stared at the concrete in front of her shoes. For some reason, that felt more intense than if he was looking directly at her. Did she feel warm? His mouth opened, presumably to say something, but by some divine power, her phone rang.

Pulling it out from her pocket, she looked at the caller ID and saw Angie's name. She wasn't sure if that was a blessing or a curse.

"I should really be going, Matt, but it was nice talking to you again," Valerie said hurriedly, muting her phone and pocketing it again.

"It was nice listening." He replied as they both stood. Val turned to leave with a small goodbye, but he spoke before she could fully turn. "Arrange a session with Jackson again, before he scars the kid for life. I think in his own drunken way he misses you."

That sounded a little authoritative for Valerie's taste. "I'll, uh, have to check my sched-"

"I wasn't asking." He said before she could finish.

Valerie took it the wrong way for the briefest of seconds, not liking his direct language or demeaning tone-

Oh, she saw what he was doing. She did that. He didn't like it either.

"Very… well." Val said, a little impressed. "Perhaps I'll see you soon?"

"Perhaps." He walked away with a badly-concealed smirk.

" _Son of a bitch_ ," She whispered almost reverently under her breath, watching him disappear into the crowd of people.

* * *

After her encounter with Matt, and after finishing her work for the day, she managed to get in touch with Jackson (a process of ringing every seedy bar that offered a veteran discount within a three-mile radius) and arranged a training session for that evening. Val's mystery acquaintance was right in one sense, Jackson almost seemed… pleased to hear from her. As pleased as she could interpret anyway, from his belching and grunting. Though it had only been a couple of weeks since her last sparring session, she wondered how she'd fare after her break.

Spoiler – badly.

Jackson delivered a swift kick to her shin, and she fell to the ground like a sack of bricks.

"Christ," Val muttered as her knees hit the canvas, the dull thump echoing across the empty gym.

He gave a low grunt. Sloppy footwork.

Jumping back up, she had barely any time to breathe before Jackson started delivering quick jabs; she parried the two aimed at her face and just managed to dodge the third that aimed for her side, his fist brushing past her ribs.

And then his fist hit her in her chin before she could blink and she stumbled back with a groan. She felt her jaw click and her teeth rattle in her mouth.

A harsh grunt. Keep her hands up.

Jackson allowed her no room and chased her towards the rope, and Valerie changed her stance quickly and went on the offensive, her heart thudding loudly against her chest; with either exertion or adrenaline, she wasn't sure.

She parried a few more swings before there was a gap in his rhythm, and she seized the opportunity to deliver a kick.

Which he then caught, and swung her to the ground as if she was made of paper.

Her shoulders thumped against the canvas as she lay on her back, the bump almost causing her to bite her own tongue.

"A few weeks… and it's like… learning everything all over again." Val panted.

Jackson spared her no more time before he was progressing on her, and she allowed him near enough until he came within kicking distance. A swift one to his ACL – he dropped to one knee. Another kick to his chin – he toppled backwards. She rolled her body backwards and stood up in one swift movement like her grandfather had taught her all those years ago – and she was back on the offensive.

"I goddamn missed this." Val breathed, the excitement of gaining the upper hand bubbling in her stomach.

She heard a chuckle to her right and saw Matt standing outside the ring, an unabashed smile on his face.

How long had he been standing there?

The momentary distraction was enough for Jackson to seize the moment, and while Val did her best to try and stop or block his flurry of attacks, it still ended with him getting her in a grapple she couldn't free herself from and promptly thrown over his back.

Her back didn't fare too badly, the thump mainly came from the crushing of her pride.

"That's it for today," Jackson mumbled, not giving her another look as he left the ring, throwing his jacket over his shoulder and lighting up a cigarette on his way out. The smell of Marlboro cigarettes flooded her nostrils.

"I heard a crunch, are you alright?" She heard Matt call as she lay staring at the bright light bulb hanging above her.

"Yeah…" Val called back. "That was just the sound of my ego getting taken down a peg."

"I thought it sounded heavy." She could hear the smile in his tone. Glad to see he was enjoying himself.

Val got up clumsily, not bothering to flip up, roll or do anything fancy. What was the point? He couldn't see it anyway, and he had just heard her get her ass handed to her by an old drunk.

"You sure you're alright? I know Jackson can give a good beating when he wants to."

"Hm? Yeah, nothing unusual. And-" Did he know that firsthand?

Of course not, Valerie mentally scolded herself. He was blind; he'd have to be some kind of masochist to want to fight Jackson with such a disadvantage.

"-just how long were you standing there?" She asked, stretching her back with a groan.

"Long enough," Matt answered as he placed his cane against the side of the ring.

And then he jumped up to the ring.

Valerie could practically hear the sound of her gape.

He jumped up to the ring, both feet at the same time without even holding onto the ropes for support.

She stood there, dumbfounded, both hands pressed against her lower back where she was in the process of massaging it.

Matt paid her silence no mind as he got into the ring with her.

"Um," She murmured, wondering what on earth he was planning on doing. He didn't…?

"Maybe I'll make things a little easier?"

He really did.

Valerie was no Bruce Lee, she couldn't kick her leg up vertically (no matter how many times she tried at home), she couldn't do any flips (she tried once, it didn't end well) and she certainly couldn't do any cool tricks (she could, however, do a mean cartwheel) – but on a good day she could fight well. That day may not have been her best, but fighting someone who couldn't _see_ , felt a little… unfair.

He must have still been joking, she thought, as she tried to stutter out a polite refusal.

But he raised his fists and adopted an aggressive stance. His back was perfectly curved, his feet positioning was right and his shoulders were correctly raised… it was immaculate, really. She had heard a few stories about his father, Jack Murdock – and knew he was a mean fighter. Maybe he still remembered things from his youth?

"Are you… sure?" She saw his brows twitch and quickly went to correct herself. "I mean, I'm feeling a little…" Val bit her lip and gave a big sigh. "You know what, fine."

She raised her fists as well. Why not add hitting a blind guy to her list of morally questionable things she had done throughout her life?

He was looking straight past her, his vacant brown-eyed stare focused on the wall behind her right shoulder.

"Don't blame me for getting hurt, man-"

She threw a jab, slow and somewhat sluggish – and he batted it away like a fly.

"I'm not too worried." Matt jeered, though his voice sounded distant. He was evidently concentrating on something.

 _Huh,_ she thought. _Alright then._

Val threw a quicker one this time, aimed at his chest. She still lightened it, so if it did land it wouldn't hurt too much – and he swatted her fist away so quickly she questioned whether she actually threw the punch in the first place.

 _Well, then._

She threw the typical one-two combo – as basic as basic could get, aiming at his rugged chin.

He just leaned back, a perfect inch of space between her target and her fist.

How was he doing that? Was it some kind of lucky guess? Did he presume she'd go easy on him, and just happened to presume correctly?

She took her stance properly this time and raised her own fists. Val threw two jabs with her left hand, and to her continued surprise, he palmed them off with ease.

Then she quickly threw a right kick – and the man caught it, tucking it to his side and restricting her movement and balance. So she did something she only ever did once.

She jumped and used her other leg to try and catch his head.

He craned his head backwards and let go of her other leg – her foot collided with nothing but air – propelling her to spin her body around and land heavily on her front. A full one-eighty.

"Okay, what the hell?" Val screeched as she quickly scrambled to get up and away from the freaky-fighting ninja-man.

"What?" He asked, voice high pitched and jovial.

"No, no, no. You don't get to avoid this one, buddy." Valerie barked as she pointed a finger at him. "How did you do that?"

"Do what?" He responded innocently, dropping his fists but not changing his stance. "Parry? Surely Jackson taught you that."

" _Oh my god,"_ Val moaned in frustration. "You _know_ that's not what I meant!"

"I don't think I do." His lips quickly curving into a smile before it disappeared again.

"Fine." Valerie spat and got back into stance. "Bring it, blind man."

There was something of a reminiscent smile on his face yet something a little sad too.

She put her full force behind her fists and legs this time, though she needn't bother. Every swipe, jab, kick or grapple she tried – he deflected with so much ease she would have been impressed even if he _could_ see. The fact that he was blind and still managed to make their sparring look like Jackie Chan playing with a toddler was just… mind-blowing.

If anything at all, she felt as if Matt was holding _back_.

Twenty minutes of dancing around the ring, noting how she was the only one throwing anything offensive, she gave up. Red-faced, panting and now fully exhausted, she pulled back and rested on the rope.

"I… give up." Valerie huffed, wiping her clammy forehead with her taped hand. "I know… for a fact… Jackson… didn't teach you half… of whatever that was."

Matt didn't even look fazed, dropping his fists and standing casually. His breathing was somewhat laboured, and his thick hair a little skewed from where she clipped it with her fists a few times, but other than that he looked fine.

"That's because he didn't." Matt ducked under the ropes and jumped down to the ground – and after their sparring, she realized just how well he walked around without his cane.

Suddenly her sympathetic view of him changed dramatically.

This evidently wasn't some poor man who needed a guide dog and spent life tripping over sidewalks.

"What's with you and secrets?" Val asked accusingly, chasing after him as he walked over to where he left his water bottle. "Any other guy I knew who could fight like you would spend every waking minute of his life bragging about it – but not you. _You_ kept this a secret. Why?"

She had seen his routine with a punching bag, and it was impressive, but anyone who's ever been in a fight will tell you the difference between fighting an inanimate object and an actual person. It took skill – and a lot of practice. Matt had clearly overcome a great feat to learn do the things he did, so Val couldn't for the life of her understand why he kept it to himself. Surely he should be writing inspiration self-help books or something?

Matt bought himself a few moments to think as he drank some water. Valerie wasn't going to let him get away before she knew his story, though after fighting with him, she doubted she could stop him even if she wanted to.

"Maybe you just weren't that good." He answered after a second's deliberation, his tone playful.

"Wow, okay." Valerie couldn't believe her ears. "I'm no professional, alright? But anyone should have been-" She stopped herself before she dug herself into a hole she couldn't get out of.

Matt evidently knew where she was heading before she finished, and he turned away from her, occupying himself by putting on his jacket. Valerie sighed, rubbing her forehead.

"I get it," She muttered. "If you don't want to tell me about -" Val gestured widely around her, not bothering to hide it this time. "- _this_. But Christ, what man jumps just because I know his goddamn _last_ _name_?"

She saw it, the way his shoulders and back tensed. It was hard not to, really, how tightly his shirt clung to his body. Was he… some kind of criminal or something?

"Who… _are you_ , Matt Murdock?" Val asked slowly, suddenly feeling quite vulnerable. If she hit on something too personal and he took it the wrong way, she realized she was powerless to defend herself against him. It was a chilling feeling of vulnerability, one she hadn't had the displeasure of experiencing often.

Matt zipped up his coat and turned around abruptly, cane in hand and glasses on his nose.

"Someone you shouldn't get involved with." He said sharply.

With that he strode right past her and left, not turning around once.

"Involved?" Val echoed as she watched his form disappear through the door and out of the building.

What was with him and leaving her confused?


	5. Chapter 5

' _Someone you shouldn't get involved with.'_

Val spent the rest of the night repeating this in her mind, scoffing loudly every time she finished.

She sat in her apartment on her couch, sequined pillow in her lap and hand tucked under her chin. "Someone you shouldn't get involved with," Val said aloud, as she stared at the rain splattering against her window. "Pfft," She scoffed.

Valerie had tried to sleep. She had left the gym and headed straight home. Not bothering with dinner or her nightly yoga and meditation, she changed and climbed straight into bed – but couldn't sleep.

It was two-thirty. She had an agenda full of calls, meetings and a German wood supplier was flying in in the morning to meet with her and Angie to discuss samples – and that was just the _morning_.

And yet there she sat, looking at the lights of Hell's Kitchen in the murky rain, craving a cigarette.

Did she just spar with a criminal? Was he some kind of hired-killer? She suddenly sat up straight, pillow sliding off of her lap.

"Does it count of obstruction of justice if I don't tell someone about him?" Her anxiety ran away with her as she thought of herself in an orange jumpsuit, career in tatters and the thought of her morning macchiato a distant dream.

 _Or_ , a voice within her reasoned, _he could be something a little more normal._

Valerie reclined a little as she thought about it. "A womanizer - or maybe he's married?" She theorized out loud, her breathy ramblings soothing her tense body.

You know it's complicated when one of the best scenarios you can imagine is that the man's an adulterer.

Christ, she needed a cigarette.

Val quickly changed, angry at herself with every movement.

She hadn't smoked since she was nineteen – angry at her grandmother for her constant etiquette lessons ( _hands off the table, Valerie, always smile, never take a bite bigger than a quarter)_ ; angry at her grandfather for never giving her a day off from training, even when they weren't sparring ( _stop slouching, Valerie, never wear something you can't defend yourself in, walk quickly and with purpose)_ and tired at the world for never giving her a break. Years of this, and eventually she had caved into the peer pressure from her questionable friends and smoked her first cig – gagging all the way through it. That continued for a year until her grandmother caught her and had her reciting the Lord's prayer every day for the next three months. Her grandfather had merely tried to beat her to a pulp.

That was only the smallest of mistakes she had made that year.

Those were, of course, hormone-induced thoughts – the anger and resentment. Her grandmother's snide remarks had helped her build her career and her grandfather's berating had helped save her life on one occasion, so she couldn't be angry at them now.

But full circle once again - craving a menthol Pall Mall, cheeseburger and six months of doing… nothing.

Angie really was right, Valerie thought as she grabbed her keys and purse – men really were her weakness. One man, who she hadn't even laid a hand on in any other way than friendly, had thrown her immediate life into chaos. Chaos, for her, anyway.

Valerie locked her apartment with her key and tucked it neatly between her fingers – an old trick a college friend had taught her. It was Hell's Kitchen, so there was always trouble around every corner – and while Valerie could defend herself, she took help when needed.

Her nearest all-night store was only a few blocks away, so she walked. In the rain, in winter - with a light jacket and no scarf.

"If my grandmother could see me now," Valerie shuddered, the chill of the city hitting her as she left her complex.

Tucking her hands into her jacket to try and shield her fingers from the biting air, she sped up to a brisk pace.

The streets were surprisingly quiet, she noticed. Practically empty.

She knew she lived in a nicer area, if any area of Hell's Kitchen could be considered _nice,_ but there was always some shady figure or questionable shadow lurking in the alleyways, but everywhere was…silent. No-one, nowhere.

Val wasn't sure if that was a good thing or bad thing. Maybe that new vigilante was really putting in his hours? Lord knows he was doing a better job than the police were.

Val made it to the store and wasted no time in heading in.

An old man behind the counter peeked over his magazine, gave her a subtle nod before dumping it on the counter next to him. Some kind of eastern European music played from a cheap radio. She asked for her brand and he turned around to find it. Val examined the newspapers while she waited, and saw another article about the 'Masked Man'. She read a few lines before she paid for her cigarettes and left.

She was barely out of the store before she pocketed her keys and was tearing off the film packaging her little box of lung-complications, her numbing fingers making the job ten times harder than it needed to be.

"Shit," She cursed as she dropped the box on the floor, taking a quick second to roll her eyes at herself. Val went to bend to pick them up but-

She felt arms around her middle.

" _Ah_ - _!_ "

Val had no time to scream before a hand clamped over her mouth and she was being dragged into a dark alley. Panic overriding any rational thought, she flailed her limbs desperately as her eyes darted around manically, looking for everything and anything to help her.

The arms around her were crushing, and she briefly noticed deep, matted scars and tattoos on her assailant's hands before he threw her roughly to the ground.

 _That was it!_ Her grandfather used to run her through drills like this, as traumatic as they may have been for a fourteen-year-old, but it seemed like their time had come. The man, his face as scarred as his hands, yelled something at her in a language she wasn't familiar with – but she wasted no time in trying to figure it out as she scrambled off of the floor.

Her attacker seemed just as surprised as her when she dodged his blind swing, ducking and delivering a sharp jab to his solar plexus – knocking the wind clear out of him. The man stumbled back, huffing like an overfed dog, shock clear on his face. Not wanting to give him a second chance, she followed up with another blow, this time to his nose. There was a sickening crunch under her knuckles as the swing landed cleanly. From the momentum of her punch, he tripped over his own feet and fell backwards – not out cold, but dazed.

Valerie jumped back, her hands shaking as she pulled them back to her chest, droplets of blood on her right fist.

"Oh my god," Valerie whispered, her breath hitching in her throat with every breath. The realism of what was happening hit her full force as she stared at the man on the ground, who looked as if he was trying to remember what he was doing.

Valerie didn't give him any time to figure it out, choosing to turn around and run – blindly.

Did she run back to her apartment? Would she be followed? Was the man chasing after her? _What just happened?_

Val sprinted full speed down the alley and back onto the street, which was still empty. She cursed repeatedly under her breath, her legs twitching and her hands refusing to remain still by her side. Casting a quick glance in the alley, she saw the man who attacked her – wasn't alone.

Joined by three other men now, just as tough looking as the first, they talked hurriedly between them.

"Oh, _shit_ …" Val didn't want to stop any longer and went to turn and run - until she saw the injured man point straight at her. The other men followed the finger, and then she was being stared down by all four of them. "Oh, no,"

Val ran. She didn't stop to look, think or even so much as breathe as she sprinted full speed down the street, taking any random turns and twists hoping she was losing them. Everything her grandfather had taught her about the situation flooded out of her mind; overrun by fear.

Val loved thriller movies. She loved horror movies more. The older and cheesier – the better. Why? Because she loved shouting at the T.V screen, mocking the damsel as she made every wrong decision that would eventually lead to her timely death.

Somewhere in the back of her mind, she realized that _she_ had become that damsel – and she realized it as soon as she took a turn down one alley - one that didn't have any exit.

She didn't notice until she reached the wall.

Val growled in frustration and gave a curse that would make a whore blush.

She didn't need to turn around to see if the men had caught up with her. She could hear them shouting loudly from the entrance to the alley, pointing at her.

Valerie looked around desperately for anything she could use to try and defend herself. She didn't know what they wanted – she wasn't going to ask either. There was a small metal bar sticking out of a dumpster to her right, and she grabbed it as the men ran down the alley towards her. They didn't look pleased.

She saw one of them had a gun, the glint of the metal shining from the light of a lamp. It was tucked in his trousers, and he didn't look to be reaching for it anytime soon. She hoped that was a sign they wanted her alive. For what? She daren't think.

They were in front of her in seconds, and Val didn't think twice about hitting the first one who came within swinging distance. She heard the crack of his skull, felt the vibrations through the metal rod as he collapsed to the ground – felt something warm spray her face. There was a split second where she paused, her heart stopping, thinking she had killed him.

Then the bar was torn out of her hands by the next man, and Valerie hazily defended herself from his attacks. She got in a good swing, felt his jaw dislocate as he howled with pain. He stumbled back, and Val was ready to take on the last man – a wild adrenaline pumping through her veins as she was reminded of a time she had thought she had long since forgotten.

"Come on, you son of a bitch," Val breathed, some sort of twisted part of her revelling in the opportunity to test her skills.

The third man's blows were brutish and slow, and in any other environment Val would have been able to defend herself easily – but before she could throw a jab at his throat, she was being tackled to the ground by the man's whose jaw she had dislocated. They were cursing in a language she wasn't familiar with. Her face hit the ground roughly, the grit of the concrete biting into her flesh.

Val did the only thing she could think of – scream.

Her arms were being twisted behind her back painfully, and she felt a knee pressed into the bottom of her spine. She screamed louder, her lungs burning from both the pressure on her body and the force of her shouting before a hand clamped roughly over her mouth. Tears pricked her eyes, her vision blurring as she felt fear as she had never experienced it before. She thrashed wildly, trying to buck the weight on top of her to no avail. She tasted copper in her mouth.

Val heard the cock of a gun.

Time slowed down. Her gut felt cold. She thought distantly of her family.

Val closed her eyes and prayed. She had never prayed once in her life.

And then the pressure was gone. The knee in her spine, the hand clamped around her mouth and the grasp pulling her arms behind her – they all vanished as quickly as they appeared.

Valerie heaved a big breath, vaguely aware that dampness on her face was her own tears. She looked up; her vision clouded and saw a commotion. Fighting, she thought. Three men, wearing all black.

 _Did the man on the floor get back up? Were they fighting each other?_

Val quickly sat up; shuffling herself behind the dumpster she had retrieved the metal rod from moments ago. She clamped a hand over her mouth and hoped that whatever was happening would end soon. Her heart felt as if it would climb out of her chest.

Val saw the body on the ground. The one she had hit with the rod. There was a sickening dent in his head, a small portion of skull exposed and a large puddle of blood diffusing with the rainwater. Her heart lurched.

There was grunting, the sound of a body hitting the floor. More dull thumping, hissing and then the sound of feet running through a puddle.

A sudden crash as something rammed into the dumpster she was next to – and Val shouted in surprise.

Then silence.

Seconds passed, minutes maybe – it all felt like hours as Valerie sat there, quivering from both fear and her rain-dampened clothes. She looked at the body in front of her, the face thankfully looking away from her.

She whimpered; a sound so unfamiliar to her ears she wasn't even sure if it was her who made it and quickly pressed her hand back to her mouth.

There were footsteps heading in her direction. Valerie thought she was having a heart attack, how quickly the organ was beating in her chest.

She pressed her back harder against the wall, knees pressed tightly to her chest.

And then she saw him in front of her. The Masked Man.

He was staring at the wall to her left, his ear pointed at her. If she wasn't so drunk on adrenaline and fear she might have recognized the action.

"Are you hurt?" He asked, his voice a deep rumble from within his chest.

Val made a squeak that sounded something like a 'no'. She was shivering violently now, tremors racking through her body, her breath shaky and uncontrolled as she stared at the man looming over her. She could feel her cold hair sticking to her cheeks.

"Run home. Do not stop running until you are safe in your apartment and ring the police." The Masked Man ordered, a small cut on his bottom lip trickling down his chin as he spoke. She watched the droplet until he banged his fist on the dumpster next to her. "Go!"

It had no effect. The sound rattled through her body, but she didn't move; not immediately.

Now, what Valerie did next – was by far the strangest thing she had ever done.

She stood up and gingerly stepped towards him, her breath fogging up in front of her with every exhale, until she was so close she could feel the heat from his body. She heard his own ragged breathing.

His face moved a fraction of an inch, looking at the corner of her shoulder. His breathing quieted.

Neither of them moved for a moment. Valerie wasn't even one-hundred percent sure her body was her own.

And then she wrapped her arms around him, clinging to him as if his body would dry her clothes, calm her breathing and rewind the night so she never left her apartment in the first place. She pressed her face tightly against his collarbone, the smell of faded cologne and sweat oddly comforting and… familiar. Real.

His body was impossibly warm, Valerie distantly noted, as badly concealed sobs rolled through her chest.

 _What an idiot I am._

Though she couldn't help it, she felt as if the world had crumbled under her fingertips. If it weren't for the man she was currently clinging onto for dear life then… she shuddered.

She felt gentle fingers on her back, and then felt the full press of his hands against her shoulder blades. The touch was tentative, almost insecure.

 _The Masked Man is holding me. God, what happened? What am I doing?_

"Go," He whispered in her ear. She felt the scratch of his stubble against her forehead. "It's not safe here."

It all felt so… she couldn't describe it. It was like a blend of nostalgia, déjà vu and… something else.

Val had flashbacks of a darker time.

She tore herself away, sniffling like a child.

"Did I kill him?" Val whispered, terrified at the answer she might receive.

There was a long silence, as the rain thundered against Valerie's cold skin – her clothes long since drenched.

The man angled his head. "No," He said finally and Val felt the sigh of relief tear through her whole body. "He's alive, but barely."

Valerie took one last _clear_ look at him. He looked as if he was staring at her neck.

She wondered how he saw through that mask.

And then she turned around, not looking at the bodies on the ground and ran. She felt hot tears streaming down her face and paid no attention to anything else other than the sound of the feet hitting the floor. The vague outline of the city blurred past her.

Valerie only zoned back into reality when she heard the clicking of her door behind her. She rested her back against it, taking in the familiar smells of her apartment.

 _Safety._

Val slid her back down the door, until she was sitting at the bottom of it, her head craned against it so she was looking at her ceiling.

She cried like she had never done before in her life.


	6. Chapter 6

Valerie awoke in the morning, her neck craned uncomfortably in the corner between her door and the wall. Her knees must have relaxed when she slept, as her legs were splayed awkwardly across her wooden floor. She shivered.

There was brief confusion as to why she had fallen asleep against her front door, in her casual clothes – a chill in her bones and pain in her shoulders and back. Her mind was clouded. Her jaw hurt.

She groaned.

A vibration against her back. Knocking, she gathered, grimacing from the awful taste in her mouth.

Frantic knocking.

"Valerie?! Are you in there?" Heavier knocking, each bump resonating loudly in her head.

She felt as if she had a hangover, though it had been years since she had last had a drop of alcohol.

Val groaned again.

"Valerie?! Are you hurt?!" _Knock, knock_. "Are you in there?!"

Was that… Angie's wailing voice she heard?

 _Angie._

Valerie's heart sped past freezing and went to full on stopping.

" _My job_!" Val wailed as she scrambled off the floor, her scuffed shoes slipping on the varnish.

"Val? Was that you?"

She quickly stood, sliding the locks off of her door and swinging it open – it banging on the wall with a loud crack.

"Angie- I am so sorry-" Valerie began, her words blurring together as she babbled. So concentrated on her apology, she didn't take a second to look at her superiors face morph into shock.

" _Sweet Mary Mother of Jesus_ , Val, you look like _shit_." Angie gasped, her sunken eyes nearly bulging out of their sockets.

"I-"

And then it all flooded back. The cigarettes, the hands pinching her middle, the fighting, blood, running, – the Masked Man. Then she remembered the other man – the dent in his head, the crack she both heard and felt; all the _blood_. It hit her like a punch to the gut, and Valerie doubled over.

"Val?!" Angie was there in a second, arms stopping before her co-worker dropped to the floor. "Christ, Val, I'll have some of whatever you _had_."

Angie shepherded Val over to her lounge area, sitting her on the couch as Valerie tried to stop herself throwing up.

"I-I, Angie, I nearly-" Val breathed, her chest constricting painfully as each memory of the previous night hit her like a train.

"Easy, Valerie, calm down." Angie rubbed her colleagues back, shushing her quietly. "I _knew_ it had to be something serious for you to miss work!"

"What… what time is it?" Val asked. The day was bright outside, the sun high in the sky.

"I'm really not going to tell you, Val. Not with you and that damn schedule - you'll have a seizure at this rate." Val thought that was for the better. She didn't really want to know.

This close, Valerie could smell Angie's expensive perfume and the six layers of hairspray she used to keep her blow-dry looking new.

Angie looked over and saw Valerie's open kitchen. "I'll make you some tea or something, okay? You just wait here; control your breathing and then when you're ready - tell me what's got you so… riled."

Valerie nodded dumbly as Angie walked about her kitchen, flicking on the kettle and opening random cupboards trying to find what she needed.

Val looked at her hands. The back of her right one was still stained with blood. She frantically tried to rub it off before Angie came back.

"Some blind man came to the office this morning, asking about you," Angie called as she found the mug cupboard. "That's when I knew something crazy must have happened."

"Matt?" Val questioned, the confusion temporarily blindsiding her. "Dark hair, brown eyes-"

"Really handsome?" Angie turned to Val, a playful glint in her eye and a smirk on her face. "Yep, came to reception and asked for you by name. Gave his own, but you never talked about him so they refused to buzz him up. They told him you hadn't come in."

Val thought it must have been to do with their talk at the gym. Maybe he had come to explain himself? And she missed it because-

It hit her again, though less forcefully this time. That dent in the man's head haunted her – and she was the one who caused it.

Angie came walking over with two mugs of breakfast tea and set them on the coffee table in front of them. She sat back down, her hands neatly on her lap.

"I take it this is the Matt that caused… this?"

It was then, through the haze of her traumatic memories that she remembered their conversation before – the reason she went to leave the apartment in the first place. Val wanted to hit herself for letting her mind run away with her like that. What was she thinking?

"What?" Val scoffed. "No, no. That's… something else."

"And I'll definitely want to hear about that later, but… what happened, Val? Your clothes are damp; your mascaras halfway down your chin and you…" Angie squinted her eyes, the beady blue orbs roving over Valerie's features. "Is that blood from your cuts or…"

Val's heart clenched tightly. She ran her hands over her face, but Angie's own swatted them away. Just how much blood was on her?

"I was… attacked." Valerie began, watching as her friend's eyes began to soften with sympathy.

Valerie told a different story to the one that still flashed behind her eyelids every time she blinked. She had slipped out for cigarettes, dragged into an alley – defended herself and then quickly slipped away. She left out the part about the three other men, the gun, the Masked Man and the man she had hit with the rod.

Val watched Angie's face transition across a myriad of emotions. Sympathy, shock, fear… a little empathy too.

"Jesus," Angie sighed, taking her glasses off of her nose and wiping them on her scarf. They weren't blotched, they never were. Valerie presumed it was to buy her time – find something that could make what she experienced… better. "I'm… sorry, Val. Have you contacted the police?"

Val's chest constricted. _The crack, the spray of blood_ … She swallowed thickly.

"Why?" She asked, with a face she hoped portrayed innocence. "I don't remember any of their…" _The exposed skull…_ "F-faces, Ang. It was all so… quick."

"But you've got to tell someone, Valerie. Don't be stupid and keep this to yourself." Angie cuffed her friend gently on the wrist like she was a naughty child.

"I've told you – and that was painful enough."

There was a small silence then, as Angie sipped her tea. As far as her friend was aware, Valerie had just been attacked and Val had slipped away not long before anything had begun. She wasn't aware Val had almost _killed_ someone.

"I'll ring the office, make arrangements. I can give you today, and maybe tomorrow to yourself – but I'm not sure I can hold our client off longer. That man, Westey?" Angie thought for a second. "Wesney? Whatever his name was, he flipped his shit when he heard you weren't in today. And by 'flipped his shit' I mean just hummed somewhat disapprovingly."

"I need a day," Val said, shaking herself as if her weakness could be shrugged off. "I'll be back on Tuesday."

Val had worked too hard for her entire career to be destroyed in a single night, but she wasn't silly either. She didn't want to try and push through it and collapse altogether. _Did all skulls look like that?_

Angie sighed, not quite sure of herself. It was odd to see. "Okay. I'll tell the clients a little of what happened, I'm sure they'll be sympathetic." She checked the time on her phone. "I'm going to have to head back. Is there anyone you want me to call over? You shouldn't be alone at a time like this."

"No," Val shook her head. "I'll be fine. I'll have a shower and… straighten myself out."

"Never worked for me," Angie gave a wink and Val gave a very small chuckle.

Angie finished the last of her tea and picked up her bag, giving a small goodbye before heading towards the door.

"Oh, and what do you want me to tell this… Matt?" Angie asked, a small smile tugging at her thin lips. "He left his number with us and asked to let him know when we knew how you were - seemed quite adamant about it too."

"The truth, I suppose." There was no point in hiding it, Val guessed. The story she had told Angie was innocent enough.

"Are you sure? You look really…" Angie chewed on her lip, a sign that she was holding back her brutal honesty.

"I know." Val breathed. She could feel the grime on her skin with every small movement. "Just tell him I've… been better. Or make it up," Val sank back into her sofa. "I… don't care."

"Sure, kitten. Ring the office if you need anything."

* * *

Val lost time of how long she sat on that plush sofa, staring at the corner of her fridge across her apartment. It hummed quietly. She could hear the ticking of her alarm clock from the bedroom. The creaking of her radiators as they settled. A small argument between lover's two apartments over.

Eventually, she sat up, running her hand through her tangled hair and decided that it was time to get things back in order. Val wasn't quite sure what order that was, but she decided the first thing on her agenda was to clean herself up. Her apartment didn't have a bath, only a shower. At the time of her buying her home it seemed… unnecessary. Baths took up too much time – showers were quick and convenient.

Val never regretted that decision more than she did then.

She settled for a shower instead and turned it up as hot as it would go. The burn… grounded her. Val felt the sting of her cuts, the pulled muscles in her arms and back; the ache in her in lungs and scratch of her throat start to dissipate.

She ignored the red tinge of the water.

Looking at herself afterwards, naked in the bathroom mirror, was something else entirely. Val gasped as she wiped the condensation from it. There were perfect imprints of fingers in both of her arms – and a nasty bruise stretching across her ribs and stomach. A few nicks and scratches here and there, but nothing worth else worth noting. She allowed the mirror to fog back up until she became a fleshy blur.

Valerie had just tied the towel around her waist and was in the process of moisturizing when she heard her apartment phone ring from the bathroom. Placing her lotion back on the sink, she padded through the lounge and into the kitchen where it hung on the wall.

"Josie?" Val greeted, recognizing the tough voice on the other end.

"Val? Everything good? Jackson heard about your trouble and wanted to check in on you – well, I guess anyway." Josie barked out a vicious cough. "He's asking for cocktails so I guess some crazy shit's going on with him and you."

Well, Val thought, news certainly got around fast. Did Angie tell him?

"Yeah, I'm doing okay-"

There was a small commotion on the receiver, sounded like scuffling. She could hear Josie's cursing and then Jackson's rough drawl.

"You 'right?" Jackson grumbled.

"Yes, Jackson, I'm alright. It could have been-"

"You fight like I taught you?" He interrupted.

" _Yes_ , Jackson. I fought like you and grandfather taught me but-"

"You kill 'em?"

"What?!" _The crack echoed in her mind._ "J-Jackson, no, of course I didn't," Val dropped her voice, paranoid her neighbours could hear her words. "Kill him – I mean them – _anyone_!" She held her breath and felt very cold.

"You let 'em get away?!" Jackson barked.

Valerie hid her sigh.

"Jackson," Valerie began, her voice laced with warning. "I was an unarmed woman alone against four men. I was… lucky to get away at all." Her voice hitched in her throat. She didn't need this at the moment.

"You best not be crying." Jack drawled. "You toughen-"

"I'm fine, Jackson!" Val shouted - her patience and mental health deteriorating quickly. "Just," She hid her sigh behind her hand and decided to tell him what he wanted to here. "-just banged up. I held my own – dropped two of them. Nearly… " Val bit her tongue. "I-I gave as good as I got, okay?"

She really didn't want to tell him about how she sobbed like a scared child or hid behind a dumpster – terrified out of her mind - and she definitely didn't want to tell him about how the Masked Man had saved her life, and if it wasn't for him then she wouldn't be having this conversation.

"…good." He said simply, after a few moments silence. "When Jack's boy told me about your scrap, I was scared you'd gone soft 'nd ran."

"Jack's boy?" Val echoed. "Oh, Matt?"

For someone who insisted she didn't get involved with him, he was certainly going to lengths to ensure otherwise.

"Jack's boy," Jackson corrected. "'e found me here nd' told me 'bout what happened. You get any names? What they look like?"

"No, it was dark, Jackson – and I didn't stop and introduce myself." Then Val remembered a few distinct details. "Though… they sounded Eastern European? There was a group of them, and I don't think they wanted me dead." _Val could still feel the spray of warmth on her face._

She heard disapproving grunting and a cough. "I'll ask 'round. See if anyone knows anything."

"Don't, Jackson-"

The line went dead. Val cursed and slammed the phone back on the wall.

"Damn it!" She huffed. The last thing she needed was for Jackson to get himself in trouble on her behalf.

He could handle himself, sure – but so could she. And look what happened.

Val pushed it to the back of her mind as she got dressed. Chances were, he would get impossibly drunk and collapse under the table and stay that way until the whole thing blew over. Or, so she hoped.

After getting dressed, she treated the few small cuts on her face with her makeup mirror in the lounge. Her bottom lip was swelling terribly, and it would be funny if she wasn't aware how she got it. Her nose fared about the same, a small scrape and bump forming where she hit the concrete and a nice little cut on her right eyebrow and cheekbone. There were bruises, of course, most of the right side of her face looking like she had slammed it into a Sephora eyeshadow palette – but nothing was broken and nothing needed stitches, thankfully.

Being too restless to read or watch T.V on her thirty-inch plasma that had only collected dust since she had bought it, she spent the rest of the evening cleaning - the only thing that could distract her as memories tried to crawl back into her mind. ' _Idle hands make for the devils work_ ', her grandmother would crow at her every time Valerie spent more than five minutes doing nothing.

Val briefly wondered if she could fit a therapist into her schedule.

* * *

As evening drew in, she had another call from Angie to check she was doing okay and update her on where she stood with her client. After thirty minutes of arranging their next two weeks in her planner, she was in the process of copying it to her smartphone when there was a knock at her door.

Valerie froze, her finger remaining on the home button of her phone.

It was a polite knock, she noticed. A short rap. Surely if the men had found her, they wouldn't knock? Val held her breath and sat quietly for as long as she was physically able.

There was another short knock, and Val peeled herself from her desk and walked slowly towards the door, her feet avoiding every floorboard that she was aware that creaked. Her heart thudded calmly in her chest.

She was determined not be a panicky little girl like the night before. They wouldn't catch her like that, not again.

Val got to the door, and silently peeked through the eye-hole.

A man in shades stood there, his head angled to the right, cane in one hand and a bouquet of flowers in the other.

"Matt?" Val found herself saying out loud for the third time that day.

"Valerie?" She heard him call from the other side.

Val smacked a hand around her mouth. She had thought she had said that quietly, _apparently not._

She unlocked the door, sliding the bolt from its lock and opening the door slowly.

"…hello?" She said dumbly, not quite sure what to say. They hadn't exactly parted on a friendly note.

She saw his nose twitch and she raised an eyebrow.

"I… heard what happened. I," He went quiet for a second. "Just wanted to make sure you're okay."

There was an awkward pause. _Why did it feel awkward?_

"I'm… doing okay, I suppose." Val mumbled, never being an adept liar. He frowned slightly, but if he was aware she was oh so evidently lying, he didn't say anything. "Do… do you want to come in?"

 _Do we know each other like that? This is a normal thing to do, right?_

"I…" His mouth fell open for a second, this apparently being a much more difficult decision than Val would have thought. He nodded simply.

She opened the door wider and stood to the side to allow him to pass. Val was going to announce her actions, but it seemed Matt didn't need much prompting as he passed her. She noticed a small limp in his walk.

"Wow," His nose creased as placed his cane against a kitchen counter. "You've definitely cleaned today."

Val had bleached her sink and counters earlier, but that was a few hours ago, she thought the smell would have dissipated by then. Then again, she did use a lot.

"I've been keeping my hands busy, I suppose," Val laughed as she shut the door. _The image of her trembling hands wrapped around the metal bar flashed in front of her_. "Um, can I get you something to drink?"

"I'm fine, thanks." Matt played with the tag of the flowers before turning in her direction. "Here," He held them out and Val took them from him, admiring the contrasting colours in the bunch.

"Oh, they're lovely! Thank you." She couldn't remember the last time she had been bought flowers. The wealthy couple whose nursery she had decorated? "I'll put them in some water."

"I wasn't too sure about them," Matt said as Val picked out a vase. "I had a friend pick them out and he… doesn't always have the best taste." He felt his way towards the couch before sitting down. "I told him you were an interior designer too, and he doesn't work well under pressure."

She chuckled as she arranged the flowers. The bright yellows, pinks and green didn't quite blend well with the monochrome, cream theme of her apartment, but she found she didn't mind at all.

"It's the thought that counts," Val smiled as she set the vase with next to her decorative fruit bowl – a wax piece still missing from when a drunken friend had mistaken it for real fruit.

She walked over to her seating area, feeling a little out of place in her own home.

What did she talk about? It seemed so long since she had last had someone over. A sacrifice of her work was that it allowed very little time for a social life – and her list of friends had dwindled over the years. Those she still had, those who either knew her from her childhood or work colleagues, understood her life (and personality) and were content with an annual brunch or dinner at Christmas.

"You've injured your foot," Matt commented simply. "A hairline fracture?"

"I'm… not sure?" Val replied, rolling both of her feet. They both hurt, though her left one ached a little more than the other – but she thought that was normal considering the night before. "How could you…?"

This caught him a little unawares, and he stuttered for a moment. "I can, uh, hear the limp in your walk."

Val frowned at him. She was pretty sure she wasn't limping, and that didn't explain how he could possibly know if it was a hairline fracture, but she didn't say anything as she sat in an armchair across from him.

"You should really get that checked at a hospital," Matt said after a moment of silence.

Valerie scoffed. "This coming from you?"

A playful smile graced his lips. "Touché," A small furrow of concern flashed across his face when Val rolled her shoulder, it giving a loud click as she did so. "Your… friend from work told me what happened yesterday."

Val had wondered how long until he asked about that. The growingly familiar cold settled in her gut again as she braced herself.

"What were you doing out that late? On your own?" He sounded more angry than concerned.

"I was…" Val sighed in defeat, feeling like a teenager caught sneaking out by their parents. "Getting cigarettes."

Matt looked surprised, to say the least. From the cigarettes or the honesty – she wasn't sure "Cigarettes?" He repeated.

"It was a long day." Val didn't hide the bite in her tone. It apparently conveyed all that needed to be said as his face dropped to something akin to guilt.

It was looking at his somewhat sad features that caused Val to notice the cut and swelling on his bottom lip.

"Looks like I wasn't the only one, though," Val said as she eyed small wound. "You cut your lip often?"

"Walked into a cupboard," Matt answered without missing a beat. "One of the many dangers of being visually impaired."

"Oh," Val hummed, feeling a little unsettled at his answer. There was that _rehearsed_ thing she heard every time she asked what she thought was a normal question.

There was an odd air between them, she felt. Like something needed to be addressed but Valerie wasn't sure just what it was. It was like she was talking to him through a wall, but just whose wall, she couldn't be sure.

"Have you contacted the police?" Matt asked quietly.

"No, I…" Val trailed off as she prepared her answer. _All the blood_. "…never got a look at them, properly - there'd be… there'd be no point – and I feel like they'd be more interested in-"

Valerie slammed her mouth shut quickly before she embarrassed herself further. Did she tell him about the Masked Man? Her opinion on vigilantes had changed dramatically now, but she didn't know exactly what he thought of them. He was a lawyer, surely he didn't agree with random men taking the law into their own hands?

Matt angled his head and looked at the area where she sat oddly, clearly anticipating the end of her sentence. "Interested in… what?"

Val tried to speak, but it came out as little more than a grunting sigh. "What… I was wearing. They'll just… think I brought it on myself."

Good save.

"Oh?" Matt raised his eyebrows, and something in his face told her he didn't quite believe that. To her surprise, he didn't push. "Yeah, they can be a little… biased, sometimes. What's the time?"

Val checked her watch. "Six-thirty. Somewhere to be?"

"In a manner of speaking," He murmured as he stood. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I'll let you rest."

Matt felt his way to the kitchen counter where he left his cane.

There was one thing that was bugging Val as she watched Matt.

"Did Angie give you my address?" She found herself asking before she could stop.

Matt turned slightly to her, a small smile. "Yeah, she, uh, she insisted I visited,"

Angie could be very insisting when she wanted to be.

"That sounds like her," Val chuckled as she walked him to the door.

"I didn't intrude, I hope?"

"No, no, not at all! I appreciate the visit – and the flowers." Val opened the door for him. "Your friend has good taste."

The corner of Matt's mouth twitched up. "He'll be pleased to hear that."

Val opened the door, and Matt went to leave. "Wait, Matt!" The words lurched from her throat.

Matt stood at the threshold, turning to her with a raised eyebrow. "Hm?"

Val wouldn't forgive herself if she didn't clear the air. "I'm… sorry, if I was being a little… demanding yesterday. It's your life, your privacy and I shouldn't of-"

"It's alright, Valerie." He said quietly. "You wouldn't be the first."

Val nodded even though she knew it was a waste of time. "...Thanks again, for the flowers and everything."

He gave a subtle nod before leaving, the taps of his cane echoing through the hallway as he disappeared from her sight.

Val felt a little lighter, afterwards.


End file.
